


on impact

by tree



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27425980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tree/pseuds/tree
Summary: All Vic has to show for the thirty-something years of her life is a failed marriage, a history of really poor choices, and now an honest-to-god broken heart.
Relationships: Cady Longmire & Victoria "Vic" Moretti, Walt Longmire/Victoria "Vic" Moretti
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26
Collections: Good Intentions: Abandoned and Unfinished WIPs





	on impact

**Author's Note:**

> this is the very first longmire fic i started writing, way back when season 4 aired and i was just gutted by what they did to my girl. when i read about the [Good Intentions WIP Fest](https://goodintentionswipfest.tumblr.com/post/632058052286332928/good-intentions-wip-fest), i decided this deserved an airing because it contains some bits and pieces i'm very fond of. if you're inclined to comment, please abide by the rules: "The point of this fest is that these stories are perpetually unfinished; there is to be no bullying or begging of authors to finish an abandoned story".

> This is the art of  
>  living with a ticking heart—a grenade you  
>  throw through windows to make a  
>  point that language  
>  has no room for.
> 
> — Shinji Moon, _Advice from Dionysus_

Vic lies on her borrowed bed in another woman's house and stares at the surveillance photo Gorski took of her and Walt at the motel. The huge irony that there could ever be any reason to feel grateful for having a stalker is almost enough to make her laugh out loud.

"You've got to figure out what's going on with you," Eamonn had said. But Vic knows exactly what's going on with her; her feelings aren't the problem. And now that Walt's made it crystal clear what his are, or _aren't_ , there's really not a lot to figure out. Well, except things like how she's going to manage to work with him every damn day feeling like all her ribs have caved in.

Something needs to change, that much is clear. She's stuck in the middle of nowhere, working for a pittance and with no prospects for advancement. Even her car belongs to the Absaroka County Sheriff's Department. All Vic has to show for the thirty-something years of her life is a failed marriage, a history of really poor choices, and now an honest-to-god broken heart.

It dawns on her slowly that there's nothing tying her here anymore. Not love or family or even fear. The future opens up before her in breathtaking and terrifying scope. She's a good cop and she knows Walt would give her a good reference despite how fucked up things are between them. Though going back to Philly is out of the question, there are thousands of towns and cities out there. All she needs is a map to stick a pin into. Or maybe since she's already come this far west, she should just keep going. Drive until she falls off the continent and into the warm arms of the Pacific.

Of course, it's not that easy. Nothing ever is.

\-----

Walt gets shot and Donna goes missing and Vic does her job despite how much it hurts. She waits until they find Donna and Walt's back at work, fully recovered. She's not a complete asshole.

\-----

"Vic!"

Walt's voice rings out through the office the way it has hundreds, maybe even thousands, of times over the years she's worked for him. She takes a deep breath as she walks through his door. He's standing with his hands on his hips and she hates the little clutch in her belly at the sight of him.

He flicks a sheet of paper onto the desk. "What's this?"

Vic makes a show of picking it up and looking it over as if she doesn't know. "It's my two weeks' notice."

"Is this some kind of punishment?"

Her head jerks back in shock. "Wow."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, you did."

He's taking her resignation as personally as he takes everything else. Everyone orbits Walt in his own private cosmology. The bitterest truth is that when it comes to her, he's right, and she's begun to hate both of them for it.

He blows out a breath and some of the rigidity bleeds from his stance. 

"If this is about your salary, I can—"

"It's not." Vic can hear Ferg talking on the phone back in the main office. "I need to figure out what I'm doing with my life and I can't do it here."

The _with you_ at the end of her statement is unspoken, but she's pretty sure Walt knows it's there.

"Right," he says in a voice that's mostly air, shifting his gaze to the window. She watches him swallow deliberately, gathering himself. "Do you have another job lined up?"

"Not yet."

He's still not looking at her but he nods. "When you need a reference, let me know. Any law enforcement agency would be lucky to have you."

Somehow the sincerity of the compliment makes everything worse.

"Thank you," she says. 

Walt nods again, eyes averted, his body held stiffly in place.

That's as much as she's going to get.

Vic walks back to her desk and takes a gulp of her scalding coffee to wash away the ache in her throat.

\-----

The mid-week crowd at the Red Pony is fairly mellow. A mix of couples on dates and after-work drinkers provide a background of conversation that blends into a pleasant buzz of sound that Vic enjoys. This type of clientele means no one tries to hit on her. She's nursing her second beer when Henry walks behind the bar and greets her with his odd style of sardonic charm. 

Vic's never had much interest in polite chitchat; she prefers to get straight to the point. "Are you hiring here?"

"Does this inquiry mean that you are planning on a career change?"

"Yep. Turned in my notice a couple of days ago." 

Henry looks as surprised as she's ever seen him. "Walt has not mentioned this to me."

She shrugs and doesn't bother saying that what Walt does or doesn't do is no longer any of her business.

"May I ask why?"

"You know, the usual. The hours stink, the pay stinks, I'm never gonna get promoted." She thinks for a second then decides _fuck it_. "Oh, yeah, and I'm in love with my boss."

"Ah." This time Henry doesn't look surprised. She's not sure how to feel about that.

"Yeah." She looks down at her hands and clears her throat. "Look, I get it if this would make things weird for you. I don't want to get between you and Walt. It's just that Cady said you helped her out before, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask."

"I assume this would not be a long-term arrangement."

"A few months, probably. I'll need to testify at Chance Gilbert's trial and the date for that hasn't been set."

"Do you have any waitressing experience?"

"I used to work at my uncle's restaurant in high school sometimes."

"When can you start?"

"In two weeks."

"You are hired."

Vic smiles in relieved gratitude. "I really appreciate it."

Henry waves away her thanks. "I am getting an employee I know to be hard-working, capable, and trustworthy. I think I have the better end of the deal."

"Are you going to tell Walt?"

"My hiring practices are none of his business."

"Thanks, Henry."

\-----

"I need to talk to you about something."

Cady looks up from the sheaf of papers she's reading. "Okay."

"We're going to need alcohol."

"Now you're making me nervous."

They each down a shot. The vodka is cheap and it burns.

"I quit my job."

"What? Why?"

Another shot.

"My dad?"

"Yeah."

"My _dad_?"

"Yep."

" _My_ dad?"

"Oh my god, Cady, will you stop saying that?"

"I need more vodka."

It burns less the third time around.

"What's she like, Donna?"

"I'm really not the person you wanna ask about that."

Vic's no longer bothering with a glass.

"If you and my dad got married, you'd be my stepmother."

Horrified silence for a few seconds, then raucous laughter. Vic laughs until it hurts to breathe, until her chest is heaving, until the sobs, when they come, feel so much the same that it takes her a minute to figure out she's crying.

Cady says, "Sometimes he can be a real asshole."

"Yeah."

"Can't help loving him, though."

"Nope."

"I'm sorry."

Vic shrugs, cried out and limp. "What're you gonna do?"

"Boys are stupid," Cady pronounces after a minute or two.

That sets them off again and they giggle like the little girls they used to be, and somewhere in the middle of it Vic falls asleep.

\-----

There's no more "Vic, with me" at work. Now it's Ferg he calls to ride with him as he heads out of the office. It's a snub she accepts with a certain amount of relief. After the first couple of days, Ferg stops jumping in his chair and looking over at her every time it happens. 

Walt sucks it up and asks Eamonn to come back temporarily with the possibility of becoming permanent. Vic finds out when Eamonn calls to ask her if it's some kind of practical joke. He doesn't ask why she's leaving.

\-----

On her last day Walt is hardly in the office. Vic can't say she's surprised, but she's certainly disappointed. By the end of her shift her outstanding paperwork has all been filed, her gun and cuffs have been returned to Ruby, and her own desk has been cleared. She's had her truck cleaned and detailed, and returned the keys.

The final thing Vic does is set her badge with its six-pointed star in the center of Walt's desk. Walking out, she feels a new heaviness settle over her, as if she's picked up a burden instead of putting one down.

There's a farewell party for her at the Red Pony and they close the place down. Cady's passed out on one of the tables. Vic has no idea how much she's had to drink but at some point they switched from beer to shots. After that it's a little blurry.

Henry is helping her out to his truck because she's unsteady and she's resisting out of a perverse sense of pride.

"I'm fine, Henry," she says, belligerent.

"You are not fine, Vic. You are very drunk and you are also understandably upset."

The compassion in his voice breaks her. She sinks down into the passenger seat. "I just thought he'd be here. Not that he'd stay, but I thought he'd at least show up."

"Yes," Henry says, with an edge to his voice. "That was certainly a reasonable expectation."

He drives them home and helps her get Cady into the house. He finds the aspirin and pours her a glass of water. 

"Thanks, Henry. For everything."

"I will see you on Tuesday, Vic," he says, and squeezes her shoulder once before he goes.

She swallows two aspirin and strips down to her underwear. For the second time in two weeks, she lets herself cry.

\-----

Waitressing is exactly like she remembers. Her feet and her back are killing her every night when she gets off work, but she's already learned that she earns more in tips if she lets the patrons ogle her tits. Flirting's not hard and sometimes it's even a little fun. It's a nice boost for her ego, if nothing else.

No one's punching her or shooting at her; she doesn't have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to blow dry snow and ice off a crime scene or wade through animal shit.

She's even developing something of a social life. She and Jess hang out a few times; once, Cady comes along. A couple of guys ask her out and Vic says no. She's proud of herself for that. Her habit of using sex as a distraction is one of the things she's trying to change.

She misses Walt like hell.

\-----

The nightmares get worse.

The third time, she wakes up Cady. It's the middle of the night.

"You need to talk to someone, Vic."

"I'm fine."

"Right. Because these nocturnal adventures are totally normal."

"Shut up," Vic says, but there's no heat in it. She's thinking of Brandi Collette and she doesn't like the parallels of going down that road.

"Look, Vic, I know it's not easy, but I can give you the name of somebody in Cody I know of. She's got a good reputation. Just think about it, okay? Trauma doesn't go away on its own."

It surprises Vic how easily she and Cady have fallen into a friendship. She can't remember the last time she's had a woman friend. It's nice. And because she respects Cady, and because she hates feeling so weak, she thinks about it.

\-----

More irony: it's Walt who makes the decision for her, indirectly anyway.

He corners her when she's coming back from the bathroom. One of the downsides of working at the Red Pony is having to share the facilities with the customers.

She's forgotten how big and broad he is, how he dwarfs her, and how proximity to his body makes her body feel.

"Everybody misses you at the office," he says with the particular inflection that she used to think meant something special. Tonight it just stings.

"Who's everyone?" she asks. "Because Ferg and Eamonn were in here last night and I had lunch with Ruby a couple days ago."

He just looks at her with those blue eyes, with that face that she once foolishly thought she could read.

"You can't even say it, can you?" she challenges through the hurt, the sunken hope. Shaking her head, she pushes past him down the hallway. "I need to get back to work."

The worst of it is that she would have compromised her own ethics for him. It makes her hate herself a little that her personal loyalty to Walt can overrule everything she believes in. It makes her hate him more that he either didn't notice or didn't care. 

The next morning she asks Cady for the number of that therapist in Cody, because she's determined not to end up like him.

\-----

On Friday night they order pizza and open beers and try to find the worst possible movie Netflix has to offer. Vic's closest when the knock comes, but it's not the pizza guy who greets her when she opens the door.

"Cady, your dad's here," she announces and starts to turn away, but stalls out at the fleeting touch of Walt's hand on hers.

"Vic, wait. Can we talk?"

She crosses her arms, tucking her hands in against her body. "Sure. What do you want to talk about? I hear there's a new bagel place opening next month. I'm pretty excited about it."

He takes a deep breath. "I miss you. That's what I wanted to say the other night."

Part of her melts, but a larger, angrier part of her takes over her mouth. "Okay, well, thanks for stopping by."

When she starts to shut the door, he puts a hand out. "Vic. Please."

And she hates what that 'please' does to her. The way it slides along the raw places and soothes them just enough to make her relent. "You can talk until the pizza gets here."

"Okay."

They sit out on the front porch steps. She doesn't say anything to get him started; she has no intention of making this easy for him.

"I should've come to your goodbye party."

As opening gambits go, she has to admit it's unexpected.

"Why didn't you?"

"I was angry. Hurt." 

What she wants to say is _join the club_ but she bites her tongue.

"Henry had a few things to say about it. I, uh, didn't want to listen."

Her private internal response is heavy on the sarcasm. Aloud she says, "I told Henry that I didn't want to get between you two."

"You didn't. He let me know what he thought of how I was treating one of his friends. He was right and that made me angry too." A pause, then, "I'm sorry, Vic."

"For what?"

He releases air slowly. "A lot of things."

"That's not going to cut it, Walt."

"I know." He clears his throat. "To start with, I'm sorry I didn't go to your party. I'm sorry that I didn't say goodbye."

Her throat hurts and she has to swallow hard before she can speak. "Okay."

"Okay," he echoes just as the delivery guy pulls up.

"There's the pizza." She stands.

Walt stands too. "Would it be okay if I came by again?"

"It's Cady's house."

"Vic."

"Although, I doubt that'll matter to your girlfriend."

"Donna's not my girlfriend."

She waves an impatient hand. "Your lover, whatever."

"It's not like that, Vic. We broke it off."

Her mind blanks. "Oh."

By the time the kid gets up the walk, Walt has his wallet out. "I've got it."

As usual, Vic's mouth comes back online ahead of her brain. "Trying to buy me off?"

It sounds flirtier than it should, than she wants it to.

Walt gives her a little half smile. "Just a pizza."

After a second too long of eye contact that makes her heart do something stupid, she shrugs and looks away. "It's for Cady, as well."

"Right."

"Right, so... thanks."

"You're welcome."

The pizza box is burning her hand. She should go inside. "What do you want from me, Walt?"

"I just..." He looks away, down the street, shifts from one foot to the other, runs a hand over his hair, then finally meets her eyes. "I want to spend some time with you. That's all."

Telling him no is the smart thing to do.

So, of course, what she says is, "Okay."

\-----

He starts coming by the Red Pony more often. It's less awkward than she would have imagined a few months ago. He treats her with the same casual yet respectful authority as his waitress as he did as his deputy, and besides, she's used to taking his orders.

If Henry has any thoughts about it all, he keeps them to himself.

\-----

She wakes up early one morning feeling achy, slugs some water and Tylenol, and goes back to bed. A few hours later when her alarm goes off, her throat feels like razor blades and her skin hurts. Vic hates getting sick, so she decides to pretend it's not happening. After a hot shower, more water, and more Tylenol, she gets dressed and heads to the Red Pony. Breakfast is out of the question and even the thought of coffee has her stomach roiling. She's a little dizzy getting out of the car, but the sharp Wyoming wind clears her head.

Henry finds her after the lunch rush using the bar to hold herself upright. "You do not look well, Vic."

"'m fine," she mutters. Her voice sounds weird inside her head.

"That is a lie." And she knows it's bad because he manages to put his hand on her forehead and shake his head before she's even registered the movement. "Your fever is very high."

"I'll be fine," she insists. "Maybe if I just lie down for a minute."

"I think that is a good idea. You can use the couch in the office."

"Thanks." She has to squint to make out the doorway she's aiming for — when did it get so far away? — and it takes everything she has to get herself through it and onto the couch. Everything hurts and she's hot and thirsty and maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she just died right now.

Henry's voice murmurs somewhere nearby but she can't hear what he's saying. "Just need a few minutes," she mumbles. If he answers, she doesn't notice, because she's already asleep.

It's like a dream in flashes of color and sound. She feels like she's floating, except there's something warm and solid keeping her tethered. Someone tells her to swallow and it's painful but feels good at the same time.

She wakes up to cold so sharp it hurts. She's in bed, huddled under a mound of quilts, and shivering. She tries to move or call out but she can't and she realizes she's paralyzed. There are hands holding her down and taking off most of her clothes and she's trying to fight them but her body won't work and all she can do is say, "no, no, no," in a weak voice that isn't hers at all.

The water is freezing, colder even than the night she fell into the creek. It's like thousands of knives strafing her flesh, so cold that it's burning. She thrashes weakly but the hands are still holding her down and she's helpless and crying useless tears. She lies in the water and the hands become gentle, stroking her hair back and bracing her shoulders. She turns her head and finds a damp shirt and a familiar smell. And then a voice is saying, "It's okay, Vic. I know it hurts but we have to get your fever down. I've got you. It's okay."

"Walt?" she whispers, and she doesn't know why he's here, thinks there's a reason he shouldn't be, but she's so grateful for his hands and his voice that it doesn't matter. He's got her. He won't let go.

When she wakes up again, the house is dark and silent. She feels like hell but the fever has broken and she can think clearly for the first time all day.

Shaky legs manage to carry her to the bathroom to pee and the mirror confirms that she looks as bad as she feels. Her throat is still raw, so she stumbles into the kitchen for water that feels like heaven going down. When she turns around to go back to bed, she sees him, stretched out asleep on Cady's couch.

So that wasn't a dream.

Vic stands there, sipping water and watching him sleep.

He wakes up with a long indrawn breath, blinks a few times, and then smiles sleepily. "Hey. How're you feeling?" His voice is late-night scratchy, intimate.

"Like shit. What're you doing here?"

"Henry called. Said you needed a ride home."

"I don't remember that."

"You were pretty out of it when I got there."

"Did you try to drown me in really fucking cold water?"

He huffs a laugh. "It was a tepid bath. Best way to get a fever down."

"Oh." Vic takes another sip. "Thanks."

"I didn't, uh — Cady helped you change your clothes."

The fuzz in her head makes it too hard to think that through. Maybe tomorrow. Right now she seems to be swaying a little.

"You should go back to bed," says Walt.

Yeah.

The next morning he offers to make her pancakes. Vic's not sure exactly what it means in the lexicon of Walt Longmire, but she doesn't turn him down. 

. 

**Author's Note:**

> also, i would just like to go on the record as having planned to write walt teaching vic to ride long before it happened in canon, as demonstrated by this snippet of dialogue:
>
>>   
>  "I thought maybe I could teach you to ride."  
> "Is that a euphemism?"  
> "A horse."  
> "Oh."  
> 


End file.
